


Winter

by jadedepths



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Haechan Is Your Best Friend, M/M, Other, Rejection, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-23 23:30:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19161211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jadedepths/pseuds/jadedepths
Summary: "When you tell Lee Donghyuck that you love him, wisps of your hair sticking to your lips and fingertips burning from the winter’s biting wind, he laughs. It’s an erupting kind of laugh–it trembles as your knees do–and it goes on for so long you swear you can feel the earth shifting closer to the sun, spring flowers ready to bloom beneath the snow. You know that this laughter will echo around in your skull for months, planted in the bone."





	Winter

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not personally a big fan of self-insert type fics, I quite literally never read them, but I got the random urge to write an angsty rejection story in which you, the reader, are in love with Lee Donghyuck. He doesn't love you because, duh, so that plays out nice. Some of y'all could use a little rejection from your idols lately anyway. I kept the reader's gender ambiguous.
> 
> It was fun writing this. It's 3AM. Let me know if you like it or whatever because I appreciate every comment! :)

Winter

When you tell Lee Donghyuck that you love him, wisps of your hair sticking to your lips and fingertips burning from the winter’s biting wind, he laughs. It’s an erupting kind of laugh–it trembles as your knees do–and it goes on for so long you swear you can feel the earth shifting closer to the sun, spring flowers ready to bloom beneath the snow. You know that this laughter will echo around in your skull for months, planted in the bone. When he calms down, his eyes are shining and you can see that behind the gleam he is searching for the punchline to your joke. The ice crunches beneath your boots as you shift from foot to foot, studying him. You study the way the rays of the sun lighten his hair, the way his skin still glows golden in the cold months, the way his bottom lip is slightly cracked from the chill. He is beautiful. He doesn’t love you, though.

His breath puffs out in clouds, a smoking thing that caresses your face before fading. His hand raises from its spot at his side and the fool within you speeds up your heart rate, cheek already anticipating the feeling of his fingers pressed against your skin. Your heart doesn’t even settle when he simply places the hand behind his own neck, rubbing to rid himself of the tension you’ve thrown upon him like a lovesick idiot. Your chest burns from the freezing air, from the confusion that lies between his furrowed brows, from the hand resting behind a head tilted towards the snow-covered ground, from the way he shifts his weight from one foot to the other as if that will lighten the burden you slammed upon his shoulders. You let out a breath and watch as it fades into his skin; you try not to envy it. Then, you laugh. It’s something erupting, something trembling with nerves, and his eyes meet yours and they are relieved to find the punchline in the turned up corners of your mouth.

A joke has broken the ice and your heart finds solace in the lines that shatter through it. You try to ignore the way his smile brings about nostalgia for home within you.

Spring

The ice and snow melt, allowing the breath of life to come out once more. The trees are still barren for the first weeks but eventually the leaves grow back and the grass shines as though it is evergreen. Flowers bloom, as they do, and you take careful note of the way they stretch for the sun—always out of reach, always smiling down, always replenishing and warm, always radiation and fire. You think they are naive little things, longing for something much too distant and ablaze for their petals of silk. The thought makes you grimace, and you wrap your fingers around the bottom of a dandelion and yank it out by the root. You wonder for a moment if it will still long for the sun as it lies dying in the grass.

Donghyuck huffs from his spot in the yard across from you, legs spread out in front of him and hands holding him up from behind. His head is tilted sideways, eyes smiling and lips pouted. You hold his gaze for only a moment, long enough for him to mumble a grievance about the dying dandelion. You roll your eyes and remind him that dandelions are weeds, anyway. Still, he doesn’t stop pouting. When he pushes himself up from the ground, hand held out in your direction, you take careful note of the way you stretch for him, fingers wrapped around you for only a moment before you’re standing, too, and his warmth is gone. He smiles, something beaming and full of life, and you follow as he begins walking. Donghyuck moves with grace, body calculative and radiant. His hands swing carelessly at his side, arm bumping against yours every now and then, and you long for him. You long for fingers intertwined, for a love like full bloom, for fire and flower petals. 

A naive little thing, you wonder if someone has already pulled you out by the root and left you dying in the grass.

Summer

The heat of summer is heavy and thick, and moisture sticks to skin as rays of sun turn cheeks cherry red. In the evenings, everything is kissed with gold and the pool water shimmers in response, a blurred imitation of the sunset painted on its surface. Donghyuck dives in first, skin glowing at dusk, and he emerges quickly, calling for you. He reminds you of your obligation to him on his birthday, yet you still hesitate before jumping in, dipping a careful toe in to check for biting cold. You shiver and move back but before you can fully retreat, he’s pulled you into the water with him, hands gripping your thigh, then your waist. The cool of it raises goosebumps on your skin, and you’re thrown back to winter—just for a moment—to a chest that burns, to laughter planted in bone, to punchlines. When you return, your head is above the water and the cold doesn’t seem all that biting anymore. You hear him laughing—erupting, at you—punchline. It’s dark when you finally leave the water. Still, he is golden and beautiful and not in love with you.

He goes away for the last month of summer with his family, back to his home, and the sun leaves you much more tired than it did before. You send him greetings or goodnights or well-wishes. He sends you distance. On some days, you sit by the pool until the sun sets, shimmering, ankles cool beneath the water. Your neck stretches toward sky, cheeks cherry red, and you take careful note of nothing.

When he comes back to you, there’s a glow about him that doesn’t have anything to do with the hue of dusk but everything to do with a love like full bloom and fire and flower petals. Not for you, though.

Fall

Fall brings you autumn leaves, chapped lips, and death to the dandelions in your yard. The days are short, cold once more, and you hope for a winter less biting than the last. Donghyuck goes away again in October, and when he returns he brings back sweaters and candles and someone new. The candle he gifts you is called “Winter Wood.” It smells like something nostalgic, bittersweet and buried. You learn that the wick crackles after you light it for the first time, soothing, and you forget to blow it out when you fall asleep. When you wake up in the morning, it’s still burning.

Donghyuck invites you over for dinner—you hesitate, but he’s always had his ways of pulling you in. After dinner, you all move in front of the fireplace, hot chocolate in hand. You think they seem happy together, sipping from your drink, and the heat of it burns its way down your throat and into your chest. You shift the mug from one hand to the other, cinnamon slightly bitter on your tongue, and try not to envy the way kisses are pressed against his skin. You wonder how much snow will come this year. You wonder if his laughter will echo the same in the winter, if his lips will be cracked and his skin golden. You wonder if he’ll always be this beautiful to you, no matter the season. You find solace in the turned up corners of his mouth at a joke you didn’t hear, and you swallow longing as his eyes meet yours. 

When you leave to head home that night, Donghyuck tells you he loves you as you shut the door. You laugh and let yourself believe that is enough for you.

**Author's Note:**

> There are some sentences that go on for too long but I'm just going to attribute it to my writing style. Also, this is so short and I am very valid. (Google Docs has a way of making things look longer than they are, in my opinion.) 
> 
> Anyway, thank you for reading! I love receiving comments! 
> 
> Follow me on Twitter @jadedepths


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